


Life Eternal

by The_Great_Deprussian



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Death, Gore, Suicide, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Great_Deprussian/pseuds/The_Great_Deprussian
Summary: Adrian just wanted to be free. Free from pain, free from torment, free of life. Was that too much to ask? Apparently, it was.This is my personal opinion on how Undertaker died. I understand if you have differing opinions, but please keep them to yourself and be respectful. Also, I am fairly graphic with this so if you are sensitive do not read this please.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Life Eternal

Adrian tried to scream as his tormentors dragged a molten knife across his skin. All he could manage, after what felt like hours of endless torture, was a hoarse exhale. He didn’t know how long he’d been there. He couldn’t remember where he was. He couldn’t even remember why he was in that awful place. Once he might have known. The never ending physiological and physical pain ruined his mind.

Another attempt at a wail of agony that ended up just being a pitiful moan as his tormentors slashed a spiked chain across his bare skin. The people standing over him, cruel weapons in hand, were expressionless. Like robots. Two men and a woman.Through the haze of pain, Adrian wondered for probably the millionth time what he had done to deserve such awful punishment.

Adrian used to try to ignore the pain as they continued to abuse his scrawny, pale body. Think of other things. But it never worked. The pain could not, and would not, be ignored. It covered his body by a blanket of burning spikes. It screamed and shrieked and howled and mocked, demanding his attention.

Adrian tried to force words past his cut and swollen lips. A plea for help, to stop, to take a break, anything to give him relief from this awful Hell. It was no use. His voice was nearly gone, a hoarse whisper. It didn’t even sound like words anymore. Probably from the boiling wax they poured into his mouth. Or maybe the strange burning substance they forced him to drink that ravaged his throat. Or, perhaps, just from the screaming.

Something knocked him over the head, hard. Adrian barely reacted, just let his head flop to the side. This was a luxury compared to some of the other things they liked to do to him. Adrian opened his one good eye, just to watch his torturers. Sometimes he liked to do that. Just to see if maybe, just maybe, they felt at least a little remorse for their actions. They never really did.

Another one of the habits Adrian had given up on was praying. He used to pray to whatever Supreme Being was at the head of everything, pray for help, freedom, release. It never came, however. That’s why he stopped trying. He didn’t have the energy to waste on something pointless.

“What next?” the woman asked. She had a strangely nice voice. Low and serene. Adrian found that amusing, considering her occupation.

One of the men, the tall one with the elegant face, tapped his chin, “Hm. Maybe . . .”

Adrian tuned them out. He didn’t like that guy's voice. It was slimy, and too smooth. Dimly, he felt like he should listen. At least so he would know what was going to happen to him next. But he was tormented enough. Adrian didn’t think he should have to listen to something he didn’t like, too.

Rough hands yanked Adrian up by the hair and pain shot through him. Every fiber of his being screamed in agony and he moaned softly. He tried to stand up but his legs buckled under him and he had to cling to the table to stay upright. Something smacked his head and he crumpled to the floor.

“Hurry up and start walking!” The rougher of the two men barked.

Adrian tried, knowing he’d be beaten if he didn’t. Slowly, painfully, he got to his hands and knees. But his limbs couldn’t support him and he collapsed again.

The woman sighed, “We don’t have time for this. Grab him and drag him along.”

Hands grabbed one of Adrian’s arms and began to drag him across the rough, stone floor. He whimpered softly as raw, festering wounds raked along the floor, as well as fresh, raw ones. He was sure he was leaving a smear of scarlet blood on the floor.

Then, Adrian was tossed into a large box. The Box. It resembled a walk-in freezer, but without the shelves. It was a little bit chilly, but not too bad. That wasn’t the point of The Box. Adrian curled into fetal position on the floor as a familiar fear coiled in his gut. The door slammed shut with a bang, leaving Adrian in total darkness, and he heard the latch slide home. Adrian tried to brace himself for what was coming. It didn’t help much. It never did.

Adrian stayed curled up as the box began to move. He kept his hands over his head as it began to shake and sway violently, trying to keep from bashing his head against the wall again. For what seemed like, and probably was, hours Adrian was flipped around, upside down, side to side, forward, backwards, until once again he was just a mess of bruises. He slid more easily too after a while, as his blood slicked the walls. Eventually, Adrian allowed himself to fall into unconsciousness. He found they never let him out until he did.

Later, Adrian came too with an all to familiar ache in his skull. He moaned and clenched his teeth as someone shouted, “Oi! ‘E’s awake!”

A pause, then, “Bring him out!”

Adrian was grabbed and unceremoniously tossed over someone’s shoulder. His head lolled as he was carried back to the room. Adrian’s carrier stopped, but he wasn’t set down right away. He waited for his fate to be decided. Adrian let his thoughts wander aimlessly. What if he died next time? He wouldn’t be sad. It would be a relief, he guessed. And it was bound to happen eventually.

Apparently, they decided what to do with Adrian while he mused, as his carrier walked a little ways and then dropped him on the ground. He was yanked to his knees; a hand on the back of his throat was the only thing keeping him upright. Horror pooled in Adrian's stomach at the sight of the thing before him. 

It looked harmless enough. Just a horse trough with water in it. But it was one of Adrian’s worst nightmares. He knew what they used it for.

Adrian began to thrash, fought back as hard as he could, as a hand held the back of his neck, “No. Please no.”

They didn’t reply to his hoarse plea. Instead, the grip on his neck tightened and they forced his head under the water. Adrian tried not to sob, and stayed limp, as he was kept under. Fighting would make everything harder. There his head stayed, until stars dotted his vision and his lungs screamed for relief. Momentarily, Adrian was brought up for air. But he barely had time to retch the water from his lungs, before he was forced down again. It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

And in that moment, as his head was engulfed in icy water that overpowered his senses, until he could think of nothing else, something in him snapped. That last shred of sanity he maintained disappeared. With a strength he didn’t know he still possessed, Adrian bucked violently backwards, forcing his head out of the water. The tormentors shouted in shock and tried to grab him. But, greedily gasping for breath, he threw them off and climbed to his feet.

A low laugh bubbled in his throat as he stumbled away from them. He tugged at his limp, greasy, wet hair. This was it. He was done. The lady called for help as Adrian’s laugh turned into a shriek, thick with insanity. It was so funny how they thought they could stop him. He cast his eyes wildly around until they landed on a tray of tools.

Adrian staggered across the room, throwing people out of his way, his sight set on that beautiful tray of tools. His ticket out of this hellhole. Still laughing madly, he inspected them like a shopper might inspect some apples they were contemplating buying.

Someone came up behind him, grabbing him. With a crazed shriek, Adrian grabbed a long, thin scalpel and turned, stabbing the knife into the person's eye. They screamed as blood spurted out of the wound, spraying over Adrian. With a smile, Adrian pushed the weapon further. The screams escalated and the person thrashed, but Adrian kept an iron grip on their arm to prevent their escape. Eventually, with one last twitch, the person went limp.

Adrian yanked the scalpel out and the body slumped to the floor as he raked his eyes across the crowd that had gathered. He could feel blood drip down his face. But not his. Everyone stared in shock and he giggled madly. It slowly built into a laugh that sent chills down the spine. It was a sound of pure insanity. Pure, undulated, madness. Then, looking the woman, one of his main tormentors, in the eyes, he slashed the blade across his throat.

Slowly, Adrian sank to his knees, grinning widely, and held his head in his hands. He watched blood, his blood this time, pour onto the floor. It was a beautiful color, he thought. People grabbed him. He let them. He knew he was dead. Satisfaction filled him at the knowledge and he giggled softly, “I’m free. They will never hurt me again. I’m free. I’m free, I’m free, I’m free, I’m free.”

Adrian doubted anyone could understand him. Air couldn’t even reach his mouth through his slashed esophagus. But still, his mouth moved to form the words. Slowly, his vision faded. Slowly, be blacked out. Slowly, ever so slowly, he died. 

Then, he woke up. Hard ground was beneath him a person bent down above him. The man’s face was expressionless and cold, his hair was slicked to one side, and glasses rested on his nose. Said man sighed and jotted something on his clipboard, “Adrian, last name unknown. Died December 25, 1017. Cause of death, suicide, a knife to the throat.”

Adrian blinked, confused. Wasn’t he supposed to be dead, “W-where am I? Am I dead?”

The man sighed again, “No. You are in the Grim Reaper Dispatch, where all suicide victims go. And here they stay until they learn to appreciate life.”

Adrian blinked in shock. Then, a single tear dripped down his cheek, “I was so close. I was almost there. I was almost free.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, there you go folks! Hope you enjoyed! Again, this is my thoughts on how Undertaker died. I am not trying to change anyone's opinions with this, so please be kind and respectful. Thank you!


End file.
